A useless guide for escaping into another dimension

I am flying.

I have spread my wings and I am flying. One of the oldest human dreams, besides riches or glory or Cleopatra and her sister. I am not flying like you, that would be a painful experience. Spend one hour squeezed in the bus between sweaty people with fat suitcases. Hoping to make it two hours in advance to the airport. Because you need time for the security queues. Go through the detector, thank all your deities for not triggering the beep after you were stripped off your watch, glasses, wallet, phone, belt, shoes, socks, and dignity. And any liquids, sir? And of course, going again through the detector, and waiting to be swabbed for explosives because the beard qualifies you for the random check. Sometimes men get away with it. Women, less often. You, never. Then passport control queues, with rushed people cutting through because they're running late. Late for overpriced alcohol, and oversized Toblerones, as you see 20 minutes later in the duty-free. And maybe some perfume, too, if it's on sale. How else could they make sure they hoard all the space in the overhead compartment? Well, at least there's the consolation of smashing through their bags, hoping to crush the chocolate boxes when you try to squeeze your backpack in. No? You do not do that? Well...

Well, back to my story. This time it is not crowded, there are no queues. Nobody is rushing anywhere. There is nobody in here. I am flying alone through giant, rustling trees in this quiet forest that stretches as far as my eyes can see. The moon and the stars are painting shimmering pale contours on deep blue trees, and I am swirling and swooshing through the moving shapes. All other beings are asleep, hidden beneath the branches and the leaves and the steely darkness. I am a majestic owl and the forest and the night are mine.

I am flying for hours and now I am hovering over a big city. I see tall buildings and big roads dividing them. I see people on the sidewalks, walking lost in shiny screens glowing in the dark and bumping into each other. I see cars, small and big, with even more people in them. I am thinking some of these people are going to airports so they can fly, too. But not like me, not like here. They squeeze and struggle and suffer, and when they finally get in the air they go too high over the clouds and miss all the beauty from below. I can see everything and hear everything. Which reminds me to drop a little souvenir on that car blaring noises from its speakers and its unpleasant driver. I am a majestic little crow in this big city. The big city is mine, too. But unlike the forest, it is making me tired quickly.

As the dawn breaks I am now out of the city and out of the little crow feathers. The sun is rising now, and I am an eagle above these beautiful green hills, scattered with flowers as colorful as I could have never imagined, painting a scenery as picturesque as in the most beautiful books... just like you can read about in books. For some time, I play trying to fly above a slow, playful shadow drawn below by a cloud from above. Then I notice two hares steadily running across a hill. They are gray and one of them has black and yellow spots on its back and head. The spotted one is bigger, he must be the male. He looks so sweet, I chose him to also be my breeaaaakfaaaast! I swiftly plunge towards him, grasp with my claws, and soar back towards the cloud while the other one is running desperately for the lair. I circle for a few minutes and land in a nice, private spot with the gray and spotted one. Actually, it is rather crimson by now but I was never one to judge other by colour. I feast on its delicious flesh and innards, picking and gnawing through the juicy morsels. Mhhmm, delicious fresh flesh, I cannot comprehend how others can complain about fast food. Come to think of it, it was not that fast. And not that big, either. All that remains is a piece of leg. Maybe the fox that thinks it's sneaking unnoticed in the grass will use it for good luck. It sure did not bring much luck to this unfortunate previous owner. I guess it is time for a quick digestive glide now anyway.

As I go higher I notice the sun is getting stronger and stronger, beaming blindingly into my eyes. And strangely, I also hear voices coming from behind the sun. They are asking me if I know who modified the presentation this morning, there are two graphs missing. How could I know? I never do. But I do know that is not the sun. That is the projector. And somebody fiddling with it whilst trying to connect their stupid adapter is pointing it straight into my eyes in the process. Time to get back on land, wake up and crawl dreadingly through the stinking mud of yet another pointless status report meeting. As Andy takes care of lying about our team progress I figure it is time to take out my little shiny screen and sling some birds in the sky unnoticed for the next 45 minutes.

Being a president has it perks

In my work with people, leaving a good impression is more important than everything else. And confidence is an important part of leaving a good impression. I am a high-level recruiter, and people's trust is crucial for my success. They put their future in my hands and need to know they can depend on me. Just like I know I can trust the fiber-rich-active-ingredients yogurt in those sensitive days. You know, when I have high-level meetings with people I may hire.

Like today. And I forgot mine at home. Thank god we have an intern now. I can focus on the agenda, he can focus on the yogurt; he's not doing much here anyway. Early start this morning, almost before half past ten. And by 11 the day already looks promising, just like the horoscope said it would be. My first lunch meeting is at 3, with someone that wants to grow in a multi-national, multi-cultural company. Sounds promising, you don't find many candidates with such high aspirations these days. And he's showing initiative, too. By the age of 35 he created his own one-person company and appointed himself president. What better way to relate to other people than working alone and calling yourself president? I think people tend to open up more easily to presidents.
Anyway, the position is local sales representative, which is huge. For that, president still sounds a bit limited, maybe. Let's see what else we have on the short list before jumping to conclusions. Thoroughness is very important when you're working with people. Not quite as important as a leaving a good impression, but it ranks very high nevertheless.

So far we have a mogul, two emperors and a level-eight chief ninja priest.
One emperor already mentioned he could only work part-time; in the morning he needs to drop the dynasty at the kindergarten and then he has another part-time job which he does not want to abandon because it has potential for brilliant growth. I wouldn't normally expect anyone to be able to work full-time in sales anyway, but his can't-do attitude about something that cannot be done ticked him off the list. Beside that, an emperor doesn't sound as promising as you may think, but that's okay, you're not expected to know that if you don't have my experience and feel for people. And if I picked the other one, how would I justify that to the former? Best to be diplomatic and drop them altogether.
The mogul mentioned something about a parole officer and a loan officer which may not be very enthusiastic about him working in anything that involves other people's money.
And there's the priest. Well, he put Latin in 'known languages', I'll give him that; he could probably understand those PowerPoint presentations with "Lorem ipsum" that I see everywhere, but other than that priests are not very experienced with Office applications and computers. And I happen to know for a fact they're rather lazy during the week and then try to make up for it during weekends. Not a great sign. And a sales job involves overtime. It's not written in the job description, but it's common knowledge, you are expected to know in advance. And the rest of his title sounds a bit made-up. 

Come to think of it, fingers crossed for the president, the more I think about it the more he seems to be the best fit. Oh, and before I forget: he put in the résumé 'I am a very oriented person'. To an untrained eye such a statement may not sound like much, but it shows he has an oriented attitude. Towards what, it is not that important. What is important is the significant edge you get compared to people who write disoriented attitude. That's a big plus. He also put 'attetnion to details'. Twice. I'm sold. 100% sales material. Oh, if you still think the object of his attention is relevant, it all comes to light a few bullets below: "managing and planning resources for different projects around the globe". Mystery solved. And his voice sounded so nice on the phone. We have a winner!

I'll be proactive and have an offer ready for him, to finish quickly; I just remembered I need to take the cat to the vet afterwards; I cannot step back at this point, no matter how much he asks.

All in all, such a productive day today. If everything pans out -as I planned- I'll only need to set my status to 'Work from home' and leave earlier. An almost perfect day if it weren't for that idiot; this is the second day in a row when he brings full-fat. At least this time it's the one with pro-biotics. University is a waste for some people, I really don't know why we bother bringing interns here. Safe to say, this is not president material.

Day one

You've passed the interviews. All six of them. Even the ones you had no idea what they were about. You accepted the offer. You've made it. And now you can't wait to start.
Firstly, wait two weeks to one month.

[Two weeks to one month later...]

This is it. First day.
You don't know exactly where to park, where the entrance is, which button is the right buzzer, which floor to go to, but you don't get discouraged. Nothing can stop you now, nothing can cloud this brilliant day. You've made it. You're at the reception. Wow, she's pretty, she has lovely eyes. A bit bored, though, but still very focused. Important work, no doubt. You should focus, too. You're here for much more important things. You're here to build your future. You're here to meet whom? No, you work here. You're colleagues. A brief flicker of interest sparks in her lovely eyes. And... Back to bored. Who should pick you up? You don't know, you thought someone was waiting for you. No, you don't remember any name from the interviews, unfortunately. Bored turns to annoyed, all the effort put all morning in the Candy Crush tournament is going to waste now. Because of you. Finally, someone in your department is found that has vaguely heard about a new guy. A small detour to get a badge. A visitor badge for now, remember to give it back when yours is ready? In 3 to 5 weeks, most likely. Anyway, you and your temporary badge are being taken to your desk. And quickly abandoned there, you colleague has work to do. Look at it, your desk! It's brilliant. Your future starts here. Although it is a bit shallow at the moment. There should something be here, right?
Time to meet the local IT. You don't know it yet, but the brilliant day is about to be shadowed by a trip to the place of no sunshine. Time for NDAs, scorn, security, slight abuse, what you can and cannot do. Mostly what you cannot do. Be humble and be humbled for the gumption to expect a working computer and phone that doesn't weigh more than the computer.

[Two to four hours later...]

Victory! A bit crumpled, but victorious. You're all set. A shiny new phone, a not-so-shiny laptop. You're all set. The possibilities are limitless, everything's at your fingertips. Not right now, but right after you'll be granted access to the Internet, to the intranet, to the applications. And a SIM card. From now on the only way is up. The first day is really great. And now, it's lunch time. Alone today, because you don't know anybody.

[A lunch break later...]

If you think the visit to the IT department was the sole cloud on this otherwise perfect day, wait till you reach the bottomless tar pit that's about to come next. Yes, it's induction time. Time to get lost in the haunted office where a coven from HR is blighting all soul and life through tepid spells impregnated on meaningless documents more painful to read than ancient witchcraft guidebooks. If you think what you went through earlier was abuse, you're in for a surprise. A nasty, nasty surprise. 'Human resources' is not a department, it is prey. Their prey. Human is just a meaningless prefix indicating the type of resources they're after. For consumption. And what could be more delicious on their menu than a young innocent soul, another naive that comes with high hopes of growing and making a difference? Yes, you! Puny human.
Who knows, though, you might be lucky. If you catch them in a good mood it'll be over in less than 3 hours. And they may even act friendly to gain your trust and give you career advice from the Facebook games they've been playing earlier where you're told what's the perfect job for you in 10 years after you've answered to 3 questions and agreed to give your email address and all your personal details.

[Three hours later, if you're lucky]

Back to your desk. You're feeling a bit confused and there's an unpleasant sense of worry slowly creeping in. Alas, you chase it away, spending the rest of the day feeling eager for tomorrow and hopeful about the next 10 years.

[6 P.M.]

That's it, this was first day. You haven't done any actual work today and have no idea what you'll be doing tomorrow, but you have a good feeling about this.
Well... Give it some time. You've only been here a day.

Delicate flowers

I sometimes get lost in contemplation as my metaphorical sisters are vociferously expressing their disappointment with men not being considerate and respectful. It is impressive to see so much energy emerging from such small, sensitive and yet so powerful creatures. Sometimes the energy is pure rage, and for good reason; many men are just unable to fathom their beauty and delicacy and fail to appreciate it accordingly. If I had the talent (and budget) I'd like to make a movie to make people aware of their painful struggle. It would be my token of appreciation and empathy, my protest against this plague which taints our so-called "modern and evolved" society.
So far I have a title for it and a basic narrative. In order to gather more information about what women are looking for in a man, I went on Tinder. I thought of this little app to be a trove of sincere and unbiased openness, a channel where women can freely express what they want from a man, a lover, a potential partner to spend their entire lives with. Indeed, it was.

And what better starting point than the description in the profile? You're not one to judge a book by the pictures, are you?
Most of the profiles that have words in the description (more on this a bit later) are mentioning interest for relaxed conversations over a glass of wine, but intelligent and meaningful at the same time. Such descriptions are accompanied by pictures of ample décolletages and mashing bras in more or less provoking positions and tattoos depicting tribal symbols or deep philosophical quotes from Facebook. Often in Chinese characters, for emphasis.

There are some descriptions where the author was too busy to use words (yes, this is the later bit mentioned earlier). She opted for various sets of emoticons instead. Usually including a party hat, a glass of red wine, a smiling sun, a pair of lips, ice-cream, cigarette and smoke, 3 wiggly lines (probably waves, the phone set on vibrate or drunken cocaine lines), a cat's head and an umbrella tilted to 45º, which is not how you'd normally hold an umbrella.
Others -probably the more avid Shakespeare readers- take brevity to the next level of wit and have blank descriptions or brief statements such as "5.7 ft min." or "love 2 get p*ssed". An asterisk is proof that foul language does not belong in a well-educated woman's vocabulary.
And -to close the circle- there are some descriptions that contain painfully long stories about a child being afraid of the dark and a man being afraid of the light, an injured deer or cat finding shelter from the storm, a storm, the soul reflecting from a tree in a lake at midnight under the moon and above the clouds, the warmth of kindness, being present and/ or connected, a drop of water in the ocean, crossroads and so on. Usually combined.

I'm not one to generalize, every woman is unique -of course- but some common traits have emerged. The ideal man should be usually taller, considerate, without tattoos, well-mannered, educated, loyal, attentive and funny. No pictures without a t-shirt, please. They like Hawking and Chopra, Dawkins and Osho. And they're also quite religious. Some have pictures wearing a wedding dress. And at least one with a small cat or dog. Many think the eyes are the path to the soul, usually the ones wearing sunglasses the size of manholes. It's rather hard to strike the right balance. But the treasure awaiting those who go all the way is worth any effort. This is true. Some even remember to remind it to the potentially lucky ones. Just in case.

As an homage to Mr. Scorsese's masterpiece Raging bull, I'd name mine Raging cow.

Smoke without fire?

On various occasions rock-n-roll singers have questioned the wild horses' ability to drag them away (and the answers vary, depending on whom you listen to). However, back in the old days horses were used to pull heavy sleighs through thick snow. It's unlikely skinny singers would be too much challenge. However, they could have a hard time pushing them. Unless we're talking about drugs.

But we're not. We're talking about sleighing in the Russian countryside. The grand nobleman is smoking big cigars and enjoying the crisp freezing air while the Baroness snugged in fur seems to not enjoy very much the company of her husband. She's secretly thinking about enjoying the coachman later during the night, when the nobleman is out for a game of cards at the neighboring castle, wasting away her inherited fortune; alas, life is really dull in the countryside during winter. Meanwhile, the coachman is shivering at the front struggling to handle the horses and enjoys neither of his passengers. He doesn't have a warm coat nor a cigar. The only things keeping him from freezing are handling the harnesses and the seldom warm air coming from the horses. He knows he'd have to go out again at night to take the nobleman to his game, when it's even colder. And he knows afterwards he may have to go... inside -again- which on second thought is considerably less bad than the merciless frost.
Even more at the front of the convoy there are the horses for whom the ride is a pointless stroll while carrying along useless weight. They are completely oblivious of the triangle of plots and deceit going through the heads of the people they're carrying. If anything, they're slightly bemused by the peasant trying to tell them where to go; they know the road better anyway. Should they get lost in the wood, they'd be home well before the coachman and passengers froze to death on the road.
They have more important things on their mind. Matvey, the horse on the left, is suspecting that Kostya -the horse on the right- has found its stash of cigarettes hidden in the barn (on the beam above the hay stack) and it's skimming it. It can't put his hoof on it, but last time there were ten cigarettes missing. Horses aren't very good with numbers, though, and it's not polite to make accusations without solid evidence. In the meantime, Kostya is wondering whether Matvey suspects anything. Luckily in winter time you cannot really tell from distance the difference between cigarette smoke or steam you're exhaling in the cold air. But still, it's been six cigarettes in ten days only this week. Horses are not very good with numbers, indeed.
Back in the sleigh, the nobleman's mind is now working frantically. He's suspecting the baroness is having an affair with Egor, the coachman. He's considering coming back earlier from the card game to catch her in the act. But the road is difficult at night, and who's going to drive the sleigh? He cannot keep Egor with him to bring him back, the whole plan would fall apart. And even if he makes it home on his own, and he does catch her, then what? Scandal, gossip, humiliation. And ruin. Everything is hers: the money, the land, the castle and the land (Nadzieja, the baroness, has land in two places). He'd lose everything. A thick puff of smoke from his expensive cigar brings him back from his thoughts. He wouldn't even afford the expensive cigars he enjoys so much.
Nadzieja, near him, can't stand them. They are one pestering vice in the long list of vices her husband is a slave to. All day long they make her cough, and smell badly. On the other hand, she has vices that smell badly, too. Egor, for instance.
And all this time Egor, the centerpiece of all this drama, is blissfully oblivious to everything around him. His only qualm is the cold. And still, it's not that bad. It will be even colder at night on the way to the nobleman's card game. But it will be nice and warm when he gets back. Ah, if he could only get a cigarette. Would there be any left on the beam above the hay stack in the barn?

This twisted yarn would quickly unravel if they all knew what Fedor knew. Fedor is a little white horse. It's not here now. It's at the castle, waiting in the stable for Matvey and Kostya to return. The day is long without them. One day when it was alone, Fedor borrowed a GoPro Hero camera from a rabbit from another dream. While playing in the forest behind the castle, the camera caught Nadzieja and Egor together. The video is blurry and shaky, as horses' hooves are not naturally developed for handling action cameras. But Nadzieja and Egor were shaky, too, and there is enough evidence on the camera. Fedor hid it in the manger, which seems to be a better choice than the beam above the hay stack in the barn. Someday, it may use it. Maybe when it runs out of cigarettes.

Matvey, Kostya and even little Fedor would have no problem dragging Mick Jagger or Garth Brooks.

A very long article about cats and another not so long article about cats.

I read recently a woman's post on cats. Normally I don't bother and scroll or click away, but she looked quite hot so my attention span spanned for more than 2 seconds. Then I noticed words such as intelligence, affection and other sugary attempts at anthropomorphism. And I also noticed the post was rather very long. So I stopped, eventually, after 3 seconds (which is 50 percent more than usual). I'm all in for wasting time and enjoying the occasional hilarious drivel, but not one that takes itself seriously. Because nasty things can happen if people start taking seriously such things (look at religion).
In the attractive lady's defence, I can see the cat appearing intelligent to her (in a direct comparison the cat would probably win), but this doesn't change anything.

Here's a good example.
I was taking out the trash this morning when I noticed a group of five cats in heat. All tense, growling and fighting. I am not familiar with cats' interest in group sex in general, but this particular group didn't seem to be much into that; they seemed to struggle with the teaming. You could see immediately there was an obvious problem with grouping an odd number of things into pairs.
First, a bit of math. I am not proficient at distinguishing a cat's sex from the distance (no, this isn't the part that has anything to do with math), so let's cover all scenarios. The most difficult one is -in my opinion- 3 males and 2 females. Because 4 males and 1 female would be much easier to sort; just set the rota and make sure everyone follows schedule. And 5 males is even easier; problem solved already. They can all go for a beer and have a good time; no need to fight, at least not before a few glasses. In fairness (and also to keep pleased my feminist readers, I'm sure there are lots of them among the 3 or 4 readers of this blog), let's cover now the scenarios when females outnumber the males. An almost equal number of females and males -that's 3 females and 2 males, if you struggle with numbers- is the trickiest bit, because no male would allow the other one to have two while it only gets one. 4 females to 1 male is probably the easiest: the male promises to take care of all of them, but after having a go with the best-looking one it'll get tired and fall asleep. In these case there would be only 3 cats fighting, one quiet and happy and the fifth quiet and happy. And sleeping. And finally, the scenario of 5 females could easily explain the fighting, hissing and overall noise.

Of course, there could also be sexual minorities (to keep HR happy, too), but not even David Attenborough is that thorough. Ricky Gervais tackled the topic briefly more than 10 years ago but eventually dismissed it for lack of evidence.

I thought of all this while enjoying the show (I know most people find irritating the noise cats make when they're in heat, but I find it hilarious). But after feeling like Attenborough observing wild animals in their natural habitat, I got cold after a few minutes and got back inside.

My point is that cats are nowhere near humans at organizing even such simple tasks. People are more evolved, they invented things like gang-bangs (or the more conservative ménage-à-trois for those interested but bashful or agoraphobic) or fishbowls and car-keys to tackle such complicated matters. And let's not forget alcohol, of course. Actually, the most human behaviour I've seen in a cat was when it got drunk at a party. After 2 saucers of champagne and some beer it got feisty and unstable.

But generalization based on exceptions is wrong. Granted, cats are generally cute and particularly cuddly. But not human. Unless you count crass stupidity. In which case that attractive lady is very, very right.

Owling at the moon

Owls are impressive birds. They're viewed as fascinating and intelligent. They instill respect and sometimes fear. In some cultures they're viewed as harbingers of sorcery, ill omen or even death; it is thought an owl shrieking on someone's roof means someone in that house will die soon. But, occasional morbid reputation aside, most people think highly of them. They’re an icon of wisdom. Their big heads and big eyes are considered signs of superior intelligence. In stories they're often depicting old, wise characters. Their hypnotic but kind eyes, low voice and aura of mystery gain people's trust and respect for their judgment, which they often seek at times of doubt or grief. Nocturnal and solitary, they're not accessible to the non-initiated.
On top of their wisdom, some species are stunning specimens. Sometimes silvery or snow-white, their majestic plumage and aristocratic posture are a treat for any eye lucky to catch a glimpse. There is something almost magical about them, either in mid-flight or while dozing serenely on a branch, deep in the heart of the woods.
Most of them are grey and plain, though. And ugly. Their posture is forced and distorted and it’s there only to impress the weak. Their big eyes leave a little room for a little brain that can be only bothered with menial tasks like not knocking their big head against a tree while flapping around and looking for the occasional rodent to feast upon. They're vile and savage like a cheap predator. If any human feeling were to be wasted on them, it would be contempt or embarrassed pity. On more careful observation it's not hard to notice the cheap and fake shiny image, the shallowness behind the magniloquent talk and pompous feathers, the obsessed fixation on a fat juicy victim, the aggressive way they yell at their shiny cells in the office, in the restaurant or in the car. You see all the loud talk is only to cover the fear of missing the (quarterly) target, of seeing that juicy victim running away, of the fat percentage escaping from their talons in another salesperson's pocket.
Well, I say salespeople; I was thinking of owls. I know, I know, if you read again... But still, hmmm, what a strange coincidence!

Disclaimer: no sales people were harmed during the writing of this story. But on the other hand, when have they ever been on time for anything?